Love Long Lost
by MoonyMonsoon
Summary: Harry loses the love of his life. Actions have consequences that reach a long way. Present SSDM, past HPSS
1. Default Chapter

Author: MoOnY MoNSooN ( )

Title: Love Long Lost

Rating: R (mentions of suicide and sex, some in the later chapters)

Summary: Harry Potter lost his love to someone else. Actions have consequences that reach far.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected with Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this story.

Love had changed him. It had made his heart, so used to being battered and broken but well guarded, into a weak and vulnerable thing. He had been so lulled in his sense of security and love that when it had been broken, he'd been unable to do anything to defend it. In that brief moment, a split second really (nononononono you can't I love you don't do this not with him not here in our bed no please don't) he had lost all belief in his strength.

Life had dealt him bad cards. He had accepted it and moved on. He was used to seeing people die (and no normal person should be used to that, but then again..he wasn't really normal), and he'd remained strong. He' been tortured, belittled and neglected, he'd been worshipped and bestowed with the heaviest of loads upon his shoulders (Severus always said his left soulder was lower than his right) and he'd still remained strong. He'd finished school, defeated Voldemort and become an Unspeakable after his brief spell in the Auror Squad. Life had moved on and he was still strong. And then he'd fallen in love, so deeply and so suddenly he had forgotten to shield his heart. It was too late then, and his grumpy Potions Master had crawled too deeply into his heart. It occurred to Harry now, three years later, to wonder whether he really was a naive Gryffindor, believing in love and loyalty. Their love had been bitter and black, but it was the strongest love Harry had ever felt.

It hadn't been easy with them, as nothing ever was. Harry didn't believe in romance, after all he'd been through, and Severus couldn't stand fluff. They were too jaded for flowers and ideal confessions of eternal love traded over a dinner of pasta fettucini and some very good red wine. They'd ended up in Severus' bed when Harry'd been on an assignment in Hogwarts, after a solid dinner of Hogwarts food with the staff. Later they laughed and called it 'unresolved sexual tension' but the next morning they woke up and called it a mistake.

It took many misunderstandings, many fights and many, many conversations before they even officially started their relationship. All the trouble they'd gone through to start the relationship felt like a very small matter when they moved together. Things were good after they'd furnished the house. They fought, because the arguments were as big part of the bond between them as anything else, and they had sex and took walks and cooked. They did the laundry and paid the bills and shared the newspaper over their breakfast. Life wasn't sunshine and roses, but neither of them had been expecting it to be, and so they were not disappointed.

And now, three years from the day they'd decided to begin a relationship his heart was in shatters and the trust he'd given to Severus gone in the two seconds he's stood there, watching them fuck on his side of the bed. He'd handed Severus his heart and it had been grinded under the man's heel into such tiny fragments nothing could put it back together. He had never had Severus' heart and he'd never wondered because he'd believed that if he asked, it would be given to him. This gloomy rented flat seemed a million miles away from their three-story detached house with a garden that Harry had loved and cared for. There wasn't a fireplace and a soft couch here he could curl on.

Bitterness that had been missing from his mind after Voldemort's demise returned like a trusted friend, anger he'd subdued after it had gotten his godfather killed broke free, depression Severus had erased was introduced to his life again. There were no words for him to tell people how he felt. There was no need to tell anyone, because there wasn't anyone who was interested - Ron and Hermione had been the few people he let in his heart. He still wrote to people, out of respect. They would need an explanation.He had always stayed above self-pity, because he'd never felt the need. Now he drenched himself in it, wallowing in this freedom of finally feeling something he could feel without taking other people into account. Then he picked up a parchment and quill and wrote a letter he'd never send.

They found it on the kitchen table a week later, when the neighbours started complaining about the smell. He was on the bed, under covers, dressed in his pyjamas and the fluffy socks Severus had given him because his feet were always cold. Harry had always been considerate towards other people, and so everything was in order. His personal papers, addressed to Dumbledore, in a folder. Letters for his friends and family, neatly stacked. His will with his Gringott's key on top on the kitchen table, next to the letter. And all his possessions packed away and labeled. "Shoes", "Books, Dark Arts", "Books, Potions", "Dress Robes", "Slacks" and so on. The apartment had been cleaned, the rent and utility bills paid.

And there he laid, pitiful in death, in fetal position, eyes closed, glasses neatly on the bedside table, the three vials of the Extra-Strenght Draught of the Living Death next to them. In death all the weak things in his body became even more pronounced: his still small body, the unnatural thinness he still suffered from, his not-so-healthy skin and the numerous scars adorning his body.It saddened the ones standing around his bed, because nobody had ever noticed that Harry still suffered from his childhood malnutrition. In death he would be remembered as just Harry, because death strips all notions of grandeur. What the living would bestow upon his body didn't matter, because he had died as Harry, who'd never gotten what he wished for, not as the Boy-Who-Lived who could have asked for anything.

A/N Well, that was either the only chapter or the first chapter, depending on review responses. I have written the next chapter, but will not post it if nobody is interested. This story works like this as well


	2. Feel the Love

Title: Love Long Lost

Author: MoonyMonsoon

Rating: R

Pairing(s): HP/SS, SS/DM

Summary: Harry lost the only thing that ever mattered to him. Action have consequences. Past HPSS, present SSDM

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter books/movies, and I am not making any money here (wish I was, the fridge is pretty empty).

Flames not really wanted, but I always appreciate a good laugh so go ahead if you feel like it. On the other hand, constructive criticism welcome.

A/N: I was really pleased by the reviews I got, and want to give a heartfelt thank you to everyone who took the time to review. If there are any problems you notice (concerning the story), feel free to point them out to me. I don't have spell-check or a beta, so I'll have to trust my knowledge of the language. I have no idea how many chapters there will be in the story, because this plot idea is actually becoming much more than the one-off I thought it to be. Also, I added stuff to this chapter, so as of right now, I have no idea where the story will go. Sorry I didn't update this sooner, but I went home for the weekend and then there was stuff for the uni I needed to do and blah blah blah...You get the point, anyway.

Chapter 2

Severus Snape, although a moody bastard by common consent, had never actually been scathingly, cruelly mean to Harry after they'd started their relationship. That is, not until he met Draco Malfoy after years of silence on both their parts. It had been awkward to meet the former Slytherin rival of his lover, and it had remained so until Harry (Harry with the green eyes and frail body and soft lips) had forced them to get along (Harry felt that they should at least be civil to each other). So it had started, this weird dance he had with his Harry and the silver-haired boy he couldn't resist.

Severus Snape, who wasn't used to his heart behaving like it was actually alive, hadn't known what to do when Draco started invading his thoughts even during sex with Harry. Looking back, he noticed the pattern that had emerged: thoughts of Draco Malfoy disturbing his mind, Harry saying something - anything - and Severus snapping at Harry. Harry, who hadn't known what was going on Severus' his mind, eyes darkening from the insults that grew progressively worse. Sometimes Severus thought that Harry must have noticed the pattern as well, but he had never brought it up. Maybe Severus should have brought it up, but he had been afraid of loosing both of them, when he could have both of them.

It would have been all right, had Severus only known how to keep his mouth shut when he felt threatened or unsure of himself. But he had never learned, and so when the black messy hair turned silver and green eyes morphed into grey, he had taken all his frustration out on Harry. When their fights had previously been about getting even and exchanging heated words, they were now more and more about Severus finding the most cruel things he could fling at Harry, in his coldest voice. It was rather easy, because there were so many things he could say to Harry, so many things Harry was burdened with. And Harry never answered, their mutual yelling only one-sided now (and he could see Harry trying to curl into himself, to make himself small and not there). Afterwards he was always so sorry that he had make sure Harry fell asleep worn out, their lovemaking tender and slow. They never made love apart from those occasions, not anymore.

He was angry at Harry for not noticing that the sheets had been made again, angry for not noticing that somebody had been at the house, embarrased because he loved Harry and afraid because one day Harry would ask why Draco didn't come around anymore. And then he would have let the Savior of the Wizarding world know that Draco DID come around - but only to shag Severus. In short, Severus Snape was breaking under the weight of his feelings. He was cold towards Harry because his guilt was drowning him; he was drowning in Harry's emotions towards him, and he knew he wasn't worth the love Harry felt for him.

He was also suffocating, because while their relationship had been everything he had wished for in the beginning, it was now more than he wanted. Draco Malfoy and his arrogance and self-confidence were what Severus Snape wanted. He sometimes noticed that he'd gone days without wondering about Harry's feelings, and that while he might think about Draco when he was with Harry, he never thought about Harry when he was fucking Draco. He didn't make excuses for himself, because in his opinion excuses were for weak people, and Harry, while being somewhat emotionally crippled, hated excuses. If Harry hated excuses, he also absolutely hated people betraying him. Severus thought that he didn't need more than one thing he did wrong in Harry's eyes

His affair with Draco hadn't lasted very long when Harry walked in on them - but it was in the middle of the day and Harry should have been at work. Now, sitting here with Harry's last letter in his shaking hands, Severus wondered if that had been the point Harry started crumbling from within, or if it had started earlier and he hadn't noticed.

Months earlier:

It was a clear November day and Harry Potter felt like shit. He'd been given a week's sick leave for something called inaniaterroniavariola (it hurt his mind just to think of the word). Apparently it was a muggle-like pox mixed with the wizarding equivalent of the influenza. Harry didn't care beyond listening to the cure and getting his permission to miss work.

He opened the front door of their house, almost dropping his keyes in the procession. He cursed his dizziness, he cursed the Ministry and for good measure he also cursed Severus' need to live somewhere isolated. He hung his cloak in the closet and tried not to cough his lungs out when he climbed the stairs. Why had they needed a bloody staircase anyway? Every step he took stole his energy, and he had to lean against the wall when he reached the landing. He started undoing his robes when the hallway loomed before him. He'd never compared it to a marathon before, but now he was sorely tempted to do so.

He hadn't heard the noises before, being so occupied with managing to stay upright while at the same time going forward, but at the door to their bedroom they made him lean against the doorframe. These were the sort of noises he could imagine he and Severus made, when they had still had sex. Except this time Harry himself clearly wasn't inside the room, and that WAS two people he was hearing, wasn't it? With his stomach turning to lead and his mind filled with morbid fascination, he carefully pushed the door open.

It was funny how your mind could go so numb so quickly. One second, and his mind had processed what his eyes had seen, one second and his mind had shut down against the onslaught of so many feelings inside him, all wanting to be noticed. There they were, the man he loved and the boy with whom he had formed a tentative friendship. Draco Malfoy, his pale skin ("so perfect, unlike mine", Harry's brain offered) glistening with sweat, being ridden into the mattress by Severus, his skin faintly yellowish but beautiful to Harry.

Draco and Severus Draco and Severus Draco and Severus Draco's legs lewdly spread around Severus' thighs and Severus' hand somewhere between their bodies. The doorframe was the only substantial thing in Harry's crumbling world as he watched Severus groan and come inside Draco. They were a beautiful picture of sweaty flesh, the pale winter sun lighting them up as if they were two angels.

Harry's tears fell like acid against his skin and he wondered if they were just that; the tears must be his heart bleeding out, otherwise they wouldn't sting like this. He felt so much that it was like feeling nothing at all and they were having sex on their bed and Severus was never that wild with him and this wasn't happening and maybe this was just a one-off, Severus loved him and wouldn't do this to him and his heart was like a broken glass inside him, twisting and cutting his flesh. Harry had thought that love wasn't supposed to make him feel like this, this open and exposed and hurting.

"Draco, that was the absolute best I've ever had", Severus murmured to Draco, his hand moving faster now. There were new cuts to Harry's flesh, and humiliation at hearing that he wasn't good enough welling up inside him.

Draco came with an inarticulate yell as well, and the two people on the bed twined themselves together and didn't notice that somebody had watched them, until Draco opened his eyes and felt somebody other than Severus watching him.

"P-Potter?", Draco's stuttering caused by his shortness of breath, rather than nervousness or surprise. Severus started and followed Draco's gaze to the door.

Harry didn't want to see them anymore, he couldn't see them anymore. His tears stopped and the world steadied itself. His feet turned him away from the sight and took him to the kitchen. His hands put the kettle on, pulled a mug from the drying board, dropped a teabag and two spoons of sugar in it and took the milk from the fridge. His brain never interrupted his body's automatic process. Then he sat down, dropped his face in his hands and started trembling.

The end of their relationship was almost anti-climatic in comparison. They shared the furniture, the house and the photographs. Harry moved out and rented a small flat. Draco moved in with Severus. Harry, with his eyes hollowed from sleepless nights, shyed away from Severus' vibrant eyes. He, his feelings crushed under Severus' black boots, had lost his hope in somebody loving him like Severus loved Draco.

Harry had lost his idealism the moment he's killed for the first time, and all this time he'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop. The spark of hope for love he still had had in him was now put out. He'd been neglected for so long that he didn't believe himself to be complete anymore. He couldn't complete with somebody who wasn't as broken ("pathetic", his inner voice interrupted) as he was.

He only spoke the necessary words with Severus, as he handed his key to this man, this man who - in turn - handed him his destroyed heart back. With stoicism Harry packed his clothes and other possession, with his head held high he walked out of their house and with absolute stubborn bloody-mindedness held himself together until he got to his new flat. And then he broke down and cried for the first time after seeing Severus and Draco loving eah other.

TBC

(Mindless rambling ahead, please ignore)

A/N OK, I decided to stop it here, because I think the next chapter will be more complete like this, and also because I need to work some stories I wrote as Goneagall. I really want to post the next chapters, and I was really surprised I still had them saved. I mean, I've moved twice and changed computers three times, and I really thought I'd lost both stories. I was so happy when I found them!


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